


Medic's Wound

by TwoThings



Series: Tumblr Commissions [3]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: F/M, commission, tumblr commission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 15:25:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17266676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwoThings/pseuds/TwoThings
Summary: Tumblr Commission for Iamanemotionaltimebomb, who wanted TFP Ratchet pining/being jealous/in denial about being in love with a human liaison.LIME WARNING.





	Medic's Wound

“Hey Ratchet,” You say softly, “Is everything alright?”

His blue optics focus on you, and his mouth opens, but no words come out. 

_ Your human legs, your flawless legs, were perfectly showcased in the shorts you were wearing. The khaki was contrasted with the black of your sunglasses as you stand beside Agent Fowler, taking dutiful notes.  _

_ He would have given his right servo for an assistant like you.  _

_ You respond to the children’s greetings with a smile, reaching into your pockets for their favorite treats. By now the kids had learned to expect such things every time that you visited the base - Ratchet wondered if your patience had any limit. For the first time, he has come to respect a human.  _

_ Regardless, his affection and respect for you pushes him to be a better ‘bot. He is sure to be more gentle with the children when you are around, if only to try to impress you.  _

_ You didn’t notice, even if they did.  _

_ Eventually, the sight of you alone drives him mad. Your polite, calculated demeanor assures him that, even if he were to speak to you about his affection, you would not be rude nor condescending. In short, he would not be embarrassed if you rejected him. He is sure that your grace wouldn’t allow for that result.  _

_ However, this is not what keeps him from speaking to you. It is his pride.  _

_ He is too proud to admit that he has fallen for a human, one of a species that he was adamant about disliking not so long ago. He is afraid to embarrass himself in front of the other Autobots, as much as that would not be the case.  _

_ He also, on a deeper level, wants to protect you. You are in enough danger from the Decepticons as you are right now; if they learned how special you are to him, you would almost certainly die. Warfare does not allow for love, as much as it pains him.  _

_ Optimus, being the insightful and caring leader that he is, noticed his behaviour around you some time ago. His respect dictated that he tell the Prime the truth about what was bothering him. His advice was to speak to you about his affection so that it would be easier to move past his emotions.  _

_ What was implied was that the Prime disapproved of him having a relationship with a human.  _

Now that the time for this has come, Ratchet has lost all willpower to do so. Your question had given him the perfect opportunity to explain himself, but it seems as though his glossa had fused itself to the side of his intake. 

“I…” He shakes his helm, resetting his optics before looking at you again. “Just have a lot on the mind. That’s all.”

“Are you sure?” You ask in that soft and caring voice of yours. He wants you to say his designation again so he can keep the clip in his processor forever, long after you have died. 

Ratchet nearly kicks himself for his sentimentality. 

“Yes,” the medic says irritably, “I am.” He mentally throttles himself as you turn around, shoes clicking on the concrete floor of the base as you move to rejoin Fowler. 

_ You deserve that _ , his mind whispers to him.  _ You have earned the right to keep something so beautiful.  _

_ After all this time at war, after all that you have sacrificed, why not help yourself? _

His spike feels something it hasn’t in eons. The desire to grab you and whisk you away to his quarters is almost too strong for him to control. Yet, with a tremendous surge in self-will, he does. Ratchet controls himself and keeps his servos on the console, away from you. 

It is only after the sun has set that he turns to his aching spike, his attempts at keeping you from his mind failing miserably as he services himself. Was that all that you would ever be? A mirage? A figment of his love-starved processor? An image by which to service himself? Surely this was not how it would end!

He imagines you smiling at him, laughing with him, telling him how much you love him. Ratchet’s vents start to cycle down as he finishes all over his servo, the thought of you belonging to him pushing him over the edge.  


* * *

 

Optimus had noticed that Ratchet had yet to express his feelings to the human assistant of Agent Fowler. Unfortunately, that fact had only come to his attention after you had placed a kiss on the check of said government agent. 

Ratchet’s expression had remained unnoticed, but that could not be said of the way in which he left the room. The humans covered their ears as Optimus watched, concerned, while Ratchet stomped out into the hallway, on his way to his quarters. 

After apologizing to a swearing Fowler and his shaking assistant, Optimus followed Ratchet’s path and knocked on his door. A few moments later it opened, revealing a tense, angry medic. “Sir.” He greeted tersely. The Prime knew heartbreak when he saw it. 

“Ratchet, explain your actions.” 

“Optimus, I have tried to talk to Y/N, but I-”

“Your behavior was unacceptable.” Optimus answered flatly. He sympathized with his loyal friend and medic, but that did not change the brash nature of his actions. “Someone could have gotten hurt.” 

“I understand, Optimus, and I apologize.” Ratchet’s frustration was growing ever higher; not only did he have to get over this “crush,” he also needed to repair his Prime’s trust in him. 

“Ratchet, you must remedy this.” The medic hung his helm. 

“Of course, Optimus.” 

The Prime turned to leave, but added “Y/N is a fantastic human, Ratchet, but they cannot be yours.” 

“I understand, Optimus.” Ratchet said sincerely, his spark sinking slowly to sit between his pedes. “I understand.” Optimus leaves to go to his quarters, but Ratchet says as the doors close “But I cannot.”

Despite his emotional pain, Ratchet can’t prevent his spike from stirring behind its panel at the thought of you. 

Primus, how was he going to fix this? He was in so deep that he couldn’t even  _ imagine _ you without growing aroused. His spark ached for your human heart; he was ill, but he didn’t have the skill to cure it.

* * *

 

By the next time he sees you in the base, Ratchet has steeled his will and regained enough control over himself to ask you if you might come with him to discuss something confidential. You turn from your discussion with Miko, a light, happy smile on your face. It was the same smile that he had fallen so hard for, and it made his tanks churn that he would never have anything beyond that. 

You and him were not meant to be, as much as it hurt him; he needed to accept that, but sometimes the spark wants what it wants. He pined for you so deeply that he was tempted to call it love - you had made him feel like a young mech again, after eons of warfare and death and destruction. 

The worst was that he wasn’t afraid to deem it love. Ratchet didn’t scoff at the idea. Surely, when such a word comes to mind so naturally to describe a feeling, it is the correct word. 

“Of course.” Your voice brings pleasure to his CPU, which he quickly stamps out. He needs to get over you, and the first step toward that goal is his conversation. 

“Well,” Ratchet beings, casting a glance over his shoulder, “would you mind going for a drive with me?”

Miko quirks a brow and Ratchet curses her for that knowing look in her eye. 

You, however, don’t bat an eyelash at his proposal. Fowler and Optimus often went out for drives for discussions. Even though it ran the risk of attracting Decepticon attention, it removed them from the possibility of being overheard. Within a few minutes you are outside, admiring the setting sun over the orange desert, casting long shadows from the mountains as the day began to cool. 

“Alright, Ratchet, what’s the problem?”

Ratchet forces himself to regard you as any other passenger. You weren’t any different from the children or Fowler. You consisted of the same elements, the same flesh and bone. You were a human, just like the others. 

“You-” The medic doesn’t get a chance to finish as something shoots overhead, blasting his roof with cold air that sends a chill down his backstrut. Ratchet knows that it is immediately. He’s been in the war for too long not to. 

“Hold onto something.” He snaps, going off-road and throwing up dust as he accelerates. If he could make it into a canyon, there might be a chance to find a cave and wait for the ‘Con to go away. He didn’t know what he would do if you got killed or kidnapped.

Your hand wraps around a contour of his door, and the contact urges him to go faster. 

The rubble of the floor of the canyon tears at his treads, but the laser fire ahead of him has his attention. That, and the cave mouth beyond - the darkness like a beacon of hope. 

Without warning he transforms and jumps through into the cave, holding you to his chassis protectively as he rolls. You scream and his spark surges at the panicked sound. “Are you alright, y/n?” He asks urgently, his servos opening and drawing you away from his chest while the drone of the unknown ‘Con diminishes. 

“Yeah.” You groan weakly, patting his finger. Unfortunately, you had spoken prematurely. You can feel something dripping down your brow, and you know that you can’t sweat that quickly. When your hand comes away your fingers are painted with your blood. 

Ratchet gasps and finds a flat rock to lie you down on, reaching into his subspace for the human first-aid kit he keeps there. If you were seriously hurt he didn’t know how he would ever forgive himself. 

“I’m so sorry, y/n.” Ratchet apologizes, “I’m sorry.” You shake your head dismissively, prodding at your head.

“It’s just a scratch, Ratch. And a very shallow one at that. I’ll live.” You smile weakly, the truth of what had just happened finally manifesting in you as your body quakes with adrenaline. 

Ratchet, unable to believe you, conducts several scans of your body to conclude that, aside from mild bruising and the scratch on your head, you are indeed alright. He exvents to signal his relief that you aren’t permanently hurt as he hands you a bandage. 

“Are you okay, Ratchet?” The medic looks himself over, finding only some mild scorch marks from grazed lazers and the ruined state of his tires. 

“I may need a tire change, but everything else is alright.” You giggle at his unintentional joke, putting the bandage over the scratch, and Ratchet can’t help his tired smile. 

“Good. I don’t want you to get hurt.” Ratchet’s tanks feel empty as he stares at you, trying to dismiss the scraplets crawling under his armor. You’re just being kind. He’s sure of it. 

“I’ll check outside to see if that spawn of Unicron is gone,” Ratchet manages to get out, but you render null his effort to run away from you. 

“Stay here, Ratchet. There’s something you wanted to talk about, right?” You say, noticing that something seems off. His reaction confirms this for you, as he shifts from pede to pede and gazes at the cave mouth behind him. “He’s a flier, so he probably won’t come in here. If he does, I’m sure we’ll here him coming.” You say to reassure him, hoping that his nerves are due to the attack.

“Very well,” Ratchet admits, steeling himself to give the much-avoided talk. His spark sunk to his pedes when he caught your eyes shining in the darkness. 

“Y/N,” he sighs, sitting down on a boulder across from you, “I’ve been feeling this way for a long time, and I need to tell you this.”

“I am romantically interested in you.” It’s as if all time has stopped. Ratchet waits for your response, unsure of what it will be as your face remains frozen. His spark is in limbo as he waits. 

“Oh Ratchet.” The words shatter him. Ratchet never would have thought that Cybertronians and humans broke sparks using the same words. 

“I knew that that was what it was.” You had seen his attraction in his optics every time you entered the room. “I knew.” His helm tilts of its own accord. Where were you going with this?

“I like you too Ratchet.” The medic leaps for joy, his optics sparkling before he realizes the gravity of your statement. Optimus wouldn’t accept this result. 

“Sweetspark, I-” Ratchet looks away for a moment to focus his thoughts. It has been thousands of years since his processor was this clouded and busy. “I have been ordered to keep our relationship professional.” The words are colder than Unicron’s spark and he hates the way that your eyes fill with disappointment. 

“Well, we can do that. We’re adults.” Ratchet notices that you wipe your cheeks with the back of a hand and his spark tugs a little. “I understand that Optimus probably just wants to protect you.”

“Perhaps we won’t need to pretend for forever.” The medic tries to comfort you, tentatively offering you a servo to sit upon. 

“But you’ve been fighting for millions of years, right?” You sniffle. “I’ll be dust by the time that it ends.”

“Y/N,” Ratchet reassures, “The chance of being with you is worth the wait.” 

You nuzzle into his servo, your visage no longer a vision. Ratchet, however, isn’t aroused by this as he had thought he would be; instead, he is merely happy to be in the moment. He does not worry about Optimus or any of the other Autobots. Finally, in this instant, Ratchet is at peace.

* * *

 

_ After the war is over… _

As soon as Optimus is gone, Ratchet turns to you. He is, of course, upset at the loss of his friend. The war is over, but there is much healing to be done. You’ve been promoted to take Agent Fowler’s position and Ratchet works with you, helping you act as liaison between Cybertron and Earth in the post-war world. 

“You ok, Ratch?” You ask him tenderly. His optics flash with hurt for only a moment before they transition to something that makes you shudder. 

His servo crackles with his burning lust as it encircles your back to pick you up. “Shall we go back to out quarters, Ambassador?”

“You know that I’m not an Ambassador.” You try to say sternly, but are unable to with the way that Ratchet is massaging you. 

“Right now you aren’t,” he purrs as he types in the code. His frame is alive for the first time in eons, and he is more than ready to finally claim his mate. “Because right now you’re  _ mine _ .”

 


End file.
